


Talk Dirty

by lamardeuse



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-22
Updated: 2010-04-22
Packaged: 2017-10-09 02:17:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamardeuse/pseuds/lamardeuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was killing me here, and we hadn't even started.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk Dirty

**Author's Note:**

> Written for due South Flashfiction on Livejournal (sex challenge).

His tongue poked out of the side of his mouth as he sat looking down on me, spread out across the bed like a skinny-ass smorgasbord.

I closed my eyes, figuring it would make it easier for him, and waited.

Lookit, I'm not knocking any night that ends with me and him naked, but it all started with this dumb foreign movie Fraser dragged me to, this sweeping historical epic full of Fate and Romance and Death and people not getting laid. Bad enough I had to sit through it, but when he started going on after about the "star-crossed lovers", I had to stop him.

"Whoa. They were _not_ lovers, Frase."

"They most certainly were, Ray," he protested, getting all prim.

I gaped at him. "They didn't even fuck! All they did was exchange letters their whole lives, and then they croaked!" I started walking toward the Goat. "Christ, that was depressing. Next time I'm pickin' the movie."

"Some of the letters were very--erotic," he said. Great. Now he sounded hurt.

"Yeah, right," I scoffed. "I'll take the real thing, thanks. It doesn't count unless somebody comes."

He was quiet for a long time as we walked, and when I looked over at him, there was this funny look on his face. Finally, he said, "I imagine I could bring you to a most satisfying orgasm using words alone."

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Well, fuck, who could pass that up?

So a half hour later here I was, naked and waiting for Fraser to talk dirty to me. It was about the last thing I expected him to do; in the three months since we'd taken our duet up a notch, he hadn't said word one during sex. And judging by the nervous vibe that was radiating off of him in waves right now, I wasn't sure he'd be able to follow through on his dare.

I was just about to open my mouth to tell him it was okay, maybe he could try it another time, when he said, "I fell in love with you the moment I laid eyes on you."

I actually gasped at that, and I'm not a gasper. Three months and neither of us had said it, and now, out of the blue, like a fucking sledgehammer to the skull--

Waittaminute. He was in love with me from day one?

I was half hard already.

"I didn't recognize it for some time, because I was--hurt and confused over Ray Vecchio's departure. But I was immediately captured by your energy and your bravery and--"

He trailed off, and I opened my eyes.

He was staring at my left arm. "I'm sorry," he said softly, "I don't think I can--"

My heart was jumping around in my chest like Nureyev on heroin. "You're doing great," I told him.

His head snapped up.

"Don't stop," I whispered.

Fraser blinked. Licked his lips.

I bit back a groan and closed my eyes again.

"You move like the dancer you are, and that--stirred me from the first."

Stirred, huh.

"Before we were--together--I used to lie awake at night on my cot and--imagine you dancing. Dancing for me." He sucked in a breath. "You were always dressed in a tuxedo, custom-tailored; it fit you like a glove. Your whole body moved in a slow, steady rhythm--like a fast heartbeat. You were beautiful." Another breath, and I could feel his eyes on me, on my chest, my legs, my cock. "You are beautiful."

Oh yeah. This was getting good.

But then he quit talking. I figured he was going to need a little encouragement, so to be helpful I asked, "Were you just watchin'?" A picture played over my closed eyelids: Fraser's blue, blue eyes, fixed on me while I danced, alone and wanting him.

"No," he answered, his voice kind of shaky. "Well, at first, yes. But I--there always came a time when I couldn't stand it any more, and I would--walk up to you."

He stopped again, and I shifted against the bed. Damn. He was killing me here, and we hadn't even started. "Then what?" I said, trying not to sound impatient.

"You--you took my hands and placed them on your hips. And then you said--" He stopped again.

I groaned and shifted some more. "What? What?"

"I--you said," he stammered, "you said _can you feel that? Can you feel me?_"

"Jesus," I breathed. That was hotter 'n hell, the thought that Frase used to lay in his cot and have big-time fantasies about me, about _me._ I opened my eyes, and--

\--and man, there was this _look_ on his face, like the Devil had just dropped in for tea. His face was flushed, and his eyes dropped to my cock. I didn't have to look at it to know it was hard as granite. "You like this," he said, his voice gone all rough.

"Yeah," I said. "I like." The look got even hotter, and I moaned. Over the past couple of months, I'd figured out that Fraser knowing he was sexy was even sexier than Fraser not knowing he was sexy, although that turned my crank too.

Hell, Fraser any old way turned my crank.

"You want more?" Fraser's voice got low and dangerous then, like he was headed for deep water.

I sucked in a breath. Gave him a short, sharp nod.

He smiled, all crooked and--fuck.

I tangled my hands in the sheets and held on.

"I didn't answer you, just dug my fingers into the material of your jacket until I could feel the jut of your hipbones underneath the layers. You kept moving, your body undulating, and before I knew what I was doing I was kissing you. Your mouth opened and your tongue plunged into me, over and over, in time with the beat--"

I couldn't get enough air all of a sudden; the breath rattled in my throat.

"--and I began loosening your tie, undoing your shirt buttons--it was as though I was starving for you."

I remembered that first time, Fraser was as shy as a virgin, and it took a long time to get him to let himself go, to open up even a little--

"As soon as I had your shirt off, I bent my head to your nipple and bit it--"

"Aah!" My back bowed, as if he was really there, with his teeth on me.  Jesus, he'd never used anything but his tongue--

"--while I twisted the other one between my fingers, pinching it until you cried out. I was astonished at your responsiveness. I pushed you until your back hit the wall, and then kissed you while you writhed against me."

"Shit, Frase, want you to touch me like that," I heard myself say. Okay, maybe it was more of a whine.

He paused for a sec; when I opened my eyes, he was all shy again. Damn, I'd made him self-conscious. "You do?"

"Fuck yeah, but it's okay, this is good, this is greatness, only don't stop," I babbled. Man, I was begging.

"I--" Fraser began. "Would you--tell me what you want?"

I stared up at him, then let my eyes rake over him. His face was shiny with sweat, his pure, perfect skin was flushed all the way down his chest, and his cock was standing proud, jutting out toward me as if it was yearning for home.

Oh yeah. I could tell him.

"I want you to fuck me," I murmured.

Fraser's breath caught.

"But not like we've been doing, like we're not sure if this is really--right. I want you to fuck me like you mean it. Like I know you want to, now."

"Ray--" It was a moan. He was breathing through his mouth, his cheeks beet red with embarrassment or excitement or both.

"I want you to let go, let go of all that polite crap and take me wild and hard. I want you to drive your cock so deep inside me I come just from that. I want to yell your name when I come, like I'm not ashamed to tell the world exactly who's making me feel this way. And then I want to do it all back to you, in spades. I want you to look at me like you're looking now, like I'm fucking everything you want, everything you need."

"You are," he whispered. "God, Ray--"

"'Cause you're everything _I _need, Frase. Should've told you as soon as I knew, but I was scared, and life's too fucking short to be scared, and if you don't touch me in the next five seconds I think I'm gonna--"

He stopped my mouth with his, and then proceeded to deliver everything I'd asked for. Gotta love a guy with a photographic memory. Which is what I told him after I was done yelling his name.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

 

Later, I held him close, loving the feel of his weight on me, heavy and sticky and boneless.

"Next time, you pick the movie," I said. I felt him smile against my shoulder, and tightened my hold on him until my arms went numb.  


**Author's Note:**

> First published September 2003.


End file.
